She watched him, thinking how handsome he was – in a totally unconscious sort of way. She'd lived in L.A. most of her life and she knew very well that men could be every bit as vain about their looks as women were supposed to be. But Billy wasn't vain. Maybe that was part of his attraction. He didn't care in the least how he looked.
An up-tempo country song came on. Billy put his boots flat on the floor and began tapping rhythm on the sides of his knees. For a moment, he seemed lost in the beat of the song. Then he caught her eye. "You know the two-step, Prue?"
She refused to be lured off the subject. "Billy, we were talking about you."
He went on tapping out the beat. "So what else you want to know?"
"Well … early love affairs?"
"Lots."
"Did you go to college?"
"Nope."
"You did finish high school, though, right?"
"You bet. Barely. GPA: 1.9."
"Impressive."
"Hold the irony, please."
"What did you do after high school?"
"I got out of Sweethaven, Kansas."
"Where did you go?"
"Nashville, where I worked odd jobs during the day and played country-western clubs for peanuts at night. I sold my first song in my early twenties. For fifty dollars, outright. To tell you true, I sold a lot of songs way too cheap. But then I booked up with Waverly Sims, my agent, eleven years ago. Since then, I've been making good money on what I write. What else?"
"When did you move to L.A.?"
"When I was twenty-eight. I opened Bad Billy's when I was thirty. And talking about all this is almost as boring as being raised by two aging Bible-thumpers in Sweethaven, Kansas, you know?"
"I'll bet Sweethaven is a very nice town."
"Aw, Prue. You would say that." He stood. "This song is almost over, Prue."
"So?"
In two strides, he was standing over her. "So come on. Let's dance."
"I don't know the two-step."
"I'll teach you." He held down his hand.
She didn't think she was ready to do that, to go willingly into his arms – even for something as seemingly innocent as a dance. "No. I don't think so."
"Aw, Prue. You've shamed me into staying out of the Hole in the Wall. I haven't had a wild night in over a week. The least you can do is try a little two-step with me."
"No, Billy."
He dropped his hand. "Well, listen to that. The song's over, anyway." He picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned the sound down. Then he tossed the remote over his shoulder. It landed neatly back on the seat of the chair he'd just vacated. He looked down at her, open appeal in his eyes. "Prue, what are we gonna do about this?"
"About what?"
"This. You and me."
She wondered how everything had managed to get away from her so fast. "Billy, didn't we discuss this before?"
"Yeah. And that time it didn't work out so well."
"You mean because I told you no."
He winced. "I really hate that word." He reached for her hand. For some crazy reason, she let him take it. He gave a tug – and she was on her feet. He put his right hand at her back and led her out into the middle of the room. They swayed to the music for a few lovely moments, Billy leading without effort, Prudence surprised at how easy it was to just follow along.
Still, her wiser self could not be entirely silenced. "I shouldn't be doing this," she whispered against his shoulder.
He pulled her marginally closer. "Don't talk, dance."
She danced, for a minute or two more. And then she pulled back a little. "When I said no, didn't I say never?"
"I don't remember. My mind's a complete blank."
"Liar."
"Hey, I've got my own agenda here. You oughta know that by now."
"I am actually flirting with you."
"Nice, isn't it?"
"It would just be so … foolish of me."
He snuggled her closer. It felt good. So very good. "How many times in your life have you been foolish, Prue?"
She tried to remember at least one.
"I thought so," he said, though she hadn't given him an answer. He pulled back, looked down at her. "You need to be foolish, Prue. You need to be reckless."
"Says you."
"Yep. I'm sort of an expert on recklessness."
"So I noticed."
"And Prue?"
"What?"
"You not only need to be reckless – you need to be reckless with me."
"Why with you?"
"Two reasons. Because I'm so experienced at it. And because I want to be reckless with you."
"This is insane."
"Naw. This is fun."
"But what about later, what about Jesse?"
"What about him? I'm his father. You're his aunt. What the two of us do in private will never change that."
"You mean he'll never even have to know."
"Now you're thinkin'."
"Well, but…" Her mind seemed suddenly about as sharp as molasses.
"Reckless, Prue. That's the word. The whole idea, when you're reckless, is you don't give a damn about later."
She stared up at him, thinking that all of a sudden, she could fully understand what the serpent must have done, back there in the Garden of Eden. "You really are trying to tempt me."
"I never try, Prue."
The song ended. They stood a foot or two from the coffee table. Prudence started to pull away.
Billy said, "Wait." He put his hands on her shoulders.
"What, Billy?"
He said nothing, only raised his hands to her temples and began sliding her glasses off.
It wasn't like that other time, at his club, when he'd moved so fast she couldn't have stopped him if she'd wanted to. This time, she could have stopped him easily. This time he did it slowly, giving her a wide-open window of opportunity to reach up and still his hand.
But she didn't.
And soon enough, her glasses were gone. The room, Billy – everything – went blurry, distorted and soft, all shimmery. Unreal.
He moved away, but only enough to set her glasses aside. And then he was standing tall, pulling her close once more.
"Billy?"
"Yeah."
"Every possible error of refraction there is, I've got."
"What does that mean?"
"It means my cornea is shaped all wrong and so are my eyes themselves. I'm severely astigmatic, as well as hypermetropic. In both eyes."
"So?"
"So I can't see a thing, Billy."
"Well, I know that. That's good."
She started to speak again. But before she could find words, he pulled her even closer. She stared, seeing the vague shape of him, feeling the heat of him, closer, hotter.
"Billy…"
"Shh." He touched her hair, his palm sliding down, from the crown of her head to where the strands curled under just above her shoulders. "Silky. Warm," he whispered.
He clasped her shoulders again, so gently. She knew he must be looking at her, and she smiled, a wobbly smile. She felt breathless, a woman frozen on the brink of something dangerous and splendid. Her heart sounded loud in her chest, but steady and deep. She was not frightened. She was … exhilarated.
And then his face came closer. She dragged in a breath. Her heart beat a fraction faster.
His mouth touched hers, very lightly. It felt … perfect. So right. He said that name he always called her, which she had told him not to call her – which he called her anyway. "Prue."
She felt the sweet caress of his breath across her skin and remembered to exhale. He breathed in the air she let out, his lips moving against hers in what she knew was a smile.
He said it again, "Prue." His mouth settled more firmly on hers and his arms slid around her, pulling her even closer than before, surrounding her – but not in a bad way, not at all. She heard a moan and it took her a spilt second to realize that she had made that sound herself.
He started kissing along her cheek, nuzzling her hair aside. Then he whispered in her ear. "Put your arms around me, Prue." She lifted her arms, slipped them up and around his neck. He made a low sound of satisfaction and approval. Then his mouth found hers again. "Kiss me back."
It sounded like a very good suggestion. So she did.
* * *
Chapter 14
« ^ »
The longer the kiss went on, the better it got. But then Billy put his hand at the small of her back and tucked her up against him so close that there was no mistaking the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her. It felt shockingly good. But it also reminded her that if she intended to stop this, she had better do it soon.
She slid her hands from around his neck to his chest. By applying steady pressure, she somehow managed to pull her mouth loose from his. "Billy…"
"I'm not done yet, Prue." He slanted his mouth the other way and captured hers once more.
"Billy…"
"Shh."
"Billy!"
That got his attention. He lifted his head. She knew he was looking down at her, though all she could see of his eyes were a pair of slightly darker spots halfway up in the fuzzy shape of his face.
"What's the problem now?"
"I just would really like some time to think about this."
He grunted. "Bad idea. You'll only change your mind." His blurred face came toward her again.
She pressed against his chest and craned her head away. "Billy."
He muttered a rude expletive – but at least he did let go of her. Then he turned away. When he faced her again, he took her hand. "Here." She felt the reassuring shape of her glasses in her palm.
She put them on. The world swam back into focus. In the center of her visual field stood Billy. He didn't look happy.
"Billy, I just…"
He put up a hand. "Let's not beat this thing to death. You know what I want. If you make up your mind you want it, too, you let me know."
* * *
Later, since sleep wouldn't come, Prudence lay in bed and worried about Oggie. She hoped he was all right. She reminded herself that no one else seemed the least concerned about him, and that everyone said he often took off like this, without telling anyone where he would go or when he'd be back.
Her thoughts turned to Randi.
Randi in a red crop top and striped leggings, sitting in the breakfast room of the mansion, her gold hair a glorious tangle around her incredible face, her untouched morning cocktail of blenderized vegetables and herbs waiting on the table in front of her.
Prudence had set aside the Wall Street Journal and watched her sister. Randi hadn't even seemed to notice she was being observed. Finally Prudence prompted, "Something's up. What?"
Randi shrugged. "A man." She picked up her drink, looked into it and then set it down untouched.
"What man?"
Randi sighed. Then, delicately, like a cat licking up the last bit of cream, she traced her upper lip with her tongue. "Billy Jones is his name."
"You like him."
Randi rested her chin on her hand and wiggled her perfect eyebrows. "I like him. I want him. I'm gonna have him. And then I'm gonna end up paying the price."
"What price?"
"He's a no-strings kind of guy. He's gonna hurt me."
Prudence couldn't understand. "Then why even start with him?"
And Randi smiled the saddest, sweetest smile. "There are some men a woman shouldn't pass up if she can help it, whether it lasts or not, whether she gets her heart broken or not."
"I don't get it."
Randi reached across the table and chucked her sister under the chin. "Phooey, Pruey." They looked at each other for a moment, and then they laughed together.
Then Randi said, "I want you to meet a man like him someday. I want you to have what I'm gonna have with him."
"No, thanks."
"There is nothing sadder than a life only half lived."
"I said, no thanks."
Randi shook her head. "Oh, Pruey, the way you limit yourself…" She let the thought trail off and reached for her vegetable drink.
In her bed in North Magdalene, alone, Prudence stared into the darkness and couldn't help wondering if her sister had been right.
* * *
The next morning, Billy seemed cool. Civil enough, but cool.
He spent most of the day with his son. While Jesse napped, he went into his bedroom and played his guitar. That night, he went over to Sam's house. He came home around eleven, after Prudence had gone to bed. Since she hadn't managed to fall asleep yet, she heard him come in.
She wanted to throw on a robe and go downstairs, to ask him how Sam was doing. And also, to ask him if he would please just go ahead and do all those things to her that she shouldn't let him do.
But she didn't. She stayed in her bed and she tossed and she turned.
The next day, Billy and Jesse left the house at a little after nine in the morning. "I think I'll take him down to Grass Valley again. He's got a thing for that big play-set at McDonald's – you know, the one with the balls and the tubes?"
"Yes. He does like that." She knew she sounded wistful, like someone hoping to be invited along.
But Billy didn't invite her. He said, "I've got the list you keep tacked on the refrigerator. I'll pick up the groceries."
"Thanks."
"Anything else you need?"
An endless kiss. Incredible sex. "No. That's all."
After they left, she felt so terribly lonely. She stood looking at the yellow roses on the dining-room table for a long time. They were way past their prime by then, many of their petals gone, the blossoms that remained drooping and brown-edged. She had been silly, to keep them so long.
She threw them away and washed out the vase. Then she called Eden. They talked about the weather – and poor Sam and Delilah, who remained apart. Eden said no one had heard anything from Oggie since he'd left Nevada's house five days before.
"Is anyone starting to get worried yet?" Prudence suggested, with maybe just a hint of an edge in her voice.
"Hmm," said Eden. "Feeling a little tense, are we?"
"Even if no one else is, I'm worried about him."
"I gathered. And yes, we all get a little concerned when we don't hear from him for several days. But it's happened before. And he always comes back safe and sound – and what else is on your mind?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's in your voice. Something's got you good and bothered. It's Billy, am I right?"
Prudence tried to think of what to say.
"I'm right," Eden answered the question herself. "Want to talk about it?"
"No. Better not."
"I'm here, if you change your mind. Off the record. For my ears alone."
"Thanks."
"And can I say just one thing?"
"Well…"
"I'm saying it, before you tell me no."
"Saying what?"
"Here goes … if you don't send your ship out, chances are, it ain't gonna come in."
"What?"
"Take a chance, maybe, huh?"
"Could we talk about something else?"
"Sure." Eden good-naturedly shifted the subject to something innocuous. They chatted for another twenty minutes or so, and then baby Diana started crying and Eden had to go.
It was nine-thirty. To Prudence, the day seemed to stretch out in front of her, empty and vast. She trudged upstairs and worked on her résumé. She fiddled with different fonts, trying to make her name look better; she reworded the descriptions of all the responsibilities she'd assumed as Randi's business manager.
And more than once, she found herself just sitting there, staring at the computer screen, remembering the feel of Billy's lips on hers, picturing ships sitting in dry dock, or wherever ships that weren't sent out sat, hearing her sister's voice: "There are some men a woman shouldn't pass up if she can help it, whether it lasts or not, whether she gets her h
eart broken or not…"
Finally Prudence shut down the program, admitting with a bleak sigh that she hadn't made any changes that amounted to anything – which was nothing new. She never made changes that amounted to anything. Because there was nothing really wrong with her résumé. It was ready, if and when she needed it.
Which just might end up being sooner than she had originally thought. In three days, on the day after Thanksgiving, Billy's two-week testing period would come to an end. She was going to have to make a hard decision, to try to make the best decision for Jesse. It wasn't a task she relished.
The doorbell rang. Prudence's sagging spirits lifted a little at the prospect of company. She ran down the stairs and pulled open the door.
Nellie stood beyond the threshold, clutching a clipboard. "Hello, my dear. I'm here to help you decide on your contribution to the Christmas Carnival."
Prudence seriously considered muttering, "Forget it," and shutting the door on Nellie's narrow face. But good manners won out. She led Nellie to the kitchen where she poured them each some coffee.
"Now," Nellie said, "as far as the carnival goes, let me tell you what I had in mind for you."
The Christmas Carnival was slated for Saturday, December 6. There would be game booths and Christmas crafts for sale, raffles and a bakery goods auction. In the evening, at the town hall, the kids from North Magdalene Elementary would put on a Christmas show. Prudence found herself agreeing to run a craft booth for a few hours and to bake a rather daunting number of brownies.
At last, Nellie tucked her clipboard under her arm and stood. "Thank you for the coffee, Prudence. And for your commitment of time and effort to the carnival. Now, I must be on my way."
Prudence herded Nellie toward the door, feeling gratified that they'd gotten through an entire conversation without one reference to bad Billy Jones.
But then, just as Prudence slid around Nellie and pulled the door wide, Nellie said, "I can see the child's not here. I suppose he's off with that man."
So much for feeling gratified. Prudence leveled a hard look on Nellie. "Do not start."
The Taming of Billy Jones Page 16